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| Have any of you ever had the hankering to start your own cult? Don't put your mouse cursor on that little 'X' any time soon. Just hear me out people. I'm not planning to have anyone drink poisoned kool-aid or ride around on bicycles as they are wearing suits. I am looking for a practical cult. I was walking around the mall noticing the legion of clothing stores with $60 t-shirts and pants you'd have to trade your first born child for. Suddenly a thought came to me. This came as a suprise to me being that my head is typically a grand canyon among minds, void of thought. I realized that clothes are merely the product of sin. They symbolize all that is wrong with humanity. When Adam and Eve took of the forbidden fruit, they were ashamed of their nakedness and fashioned the very first J. Crew ensemble from twigs and leaves. This design later sold at the retail price of 75 forbidden apples, the equivalent of a month's wage back then. The naked human body is nothing to be ashamed of. Michaelangelo's "David" is a thing of beauty to be loved by generations to come. My cult would ephasize the idea of enjoying our nakedness. Well, come to think of it, there are some people in this cruel world who would not make high quality naked specimens. We can all thank Krispy Kreme and Mickey D's for that.
I occasionally ponder the notion that my ferrets are servants of the dark lord. Each day they perform some new, cruel act that can't be observed in your average, household pet. Each morning, at 5 AM, one of them crawls into my bed and attempts to stuff it's head in to my mouth. When I try to pet and pay attention to the ferrets, they make an effort to remove my flesh from the bone beneath it. My last computer keyboard, a Logitech wireless that allowed me to type from the comfort of a bed across the room, had a glass of liquid pushed in to it which resulted in it no longer functioning. Just a few minutes ago, this entire post was almost deleted entirely by keyboard strokes the ferret itself took. That would have been an enormous shame. This madness must end. I shall rise out of this cruel oppression some day. Truly I will reach the promised land of milk and honey grahams. | | |
| Good Lord it's been a long time since I last updated the old xanga! I think the last time I added a xanga entry was when computers were made of stone. When I sent an e-mail, a bird flew out of the back of my computer and made a sarcastic comment about catching a flight to Cleveland. Oh wait, that was an episode of the Flintstones. There are a number of individuals out there in today's world that simply would not tolerate "back talk" delivered by a kitchen appliance. If my baby elephant vacuum cleaner even considered saying something like "This job really sucks," I'd have it returned to Marshall Flint's or JC Pennystone immediately. I have a special attachment to the Flintstones in that my grandparents are the modern stone age family. My grandfather could not be any more like Fred Flintstone unless he decided to stop wearing shoes and propel his car with his bare feet. My grandparents spend all their time with my aunt and uncle who bear striking similarities to Barney and Betty Rubble. It's downright frightening. We won't let my grandfather go bowling for fear he will land the ball on top of his noggin or get his finger glued in its holes. I wonder if my grandfather has intimate conversations with a little green Martian that only he can see? It would explain quite a bit about him, really.
As many of you have been informed and continue to reference in a tactless fashion, I have recently lost my job at Rochester College. This loss presents a situation of financial difficulty but raises many advantages. Many of these gains are passed on to you, the consumer. My brain, no longer sucked dry of it's vitamin C packed creative juices by countless hours spent in a basement office with a phone attached to it, is more free to present original ideas and even a pinch or dash of sweet humor. Continue to pray for me as EB Games does not quite provide the cash flow needed to support an engagement, let alone a full blown marriage situation. The following information is provided free of charge to Rochester College students:
1. Yes, Sara and I are still dating and continue to be madly in love.
2. Lord willing, we will be engaged when God gives me a job or even career that allows me to afford a ring
3. For the love of all things good and holy, stop asking either of us when we will be engaged. It tortures her and I tire of creating witty responses to the question. (Your sarcasm is not appreciated)
4. We will be married following an engagement period of several months. This is just how things work.
5. I am not the leader of an underground cult focused on world domination. I still love Jesus and do my best to serve him daily.
I hope this stops some of the harassment and gossip which I know flows freely from the mouths of those that seek to destroy my will to live. Start a hobby like collecting old tires and racing them down your street. God, Sara, and myself will appreciate it. | | |
| Xanga has the ability to soothe the troubled soul. This morning has been a troubled one indeed. I won't go into details as I might be the target of an elaborate practical joke meant to drive me to the edge of sanity. In this it has already succeeded. I currently am plotting ways to harm innocent woodland creatures. I believe the villains of this world are misunderstood. Let's examine the case study of one Doctor Victor Von DOOM. Born to Werner and Cynthia Von Doom, members of a nomadic group of gypsies wandering the Balkan mountain ranges of Europe, Victor grew accustomed to the perpetual torment suffered by all gypsies. Victor's mother, a powerful sorcerer and healer, once summoned the evil Mephisto in order to cut a deal to gain a safe homeland for her oppressed people. She was given destructive powers which eventually led to her demise. Victor's father was exiled by a Latverian baron and froze to death in the wilderness. Victor developed a vengeful hatred toward humanity. He spent his life in scientific research creating super weapons, robot clones, and his own magically enhanced armor. If you were forced to live you life on the road as a nomad, your mother sold her soul to the devil, and you watched your father die on a snowy tundra, wouldn't you too be driven to villainy? The poor guy didn't even graduate from college. His rival, the elastic "Mr. Fantastic," embarrassed him in front of his peers. These scars last a lifetime. Don't hate the villains. Relate to them.
How could you not love Barnes and Noble? I am amazed by the current crop of book/video/music/coffee mega-stores that allow destitute freeloaders like myself to get my grubby fingers all over their reading material as I enjoy a triple soy toffee lattee with no whip cream. There is so much trust involved in this relationship. I could, in theory, read absolutely every book in the stores taking detailed notes while listening to a good number of full albums on compact disc. They only thing these stores don't have is a theatre in which I could view DVDs in full surround sound. I have started to buy things out of pure guilt. Does anyone need a copy of "The Da Vinci Code" by Dan Brown? I kid, I kid. Well, I must be off to bust some heads as the ghetto music thumping in the office above mine has become unbearable. This evil must be stopped. | | |
| Today was a splendid morning brought to a grinding halt at the hands of a back stabbing friend. The sun was shining, Kraftwerk played on my stereo, and the amount of idiotic drivers on the road was unusually low. I logged in to the xanga site of my arch nemesis, Cameron Jones, only to find that he had blocked me from making any further comments on his site. To save you the trouble of clicking all over the place to read my previous comments, I noted that I was not added to Cam's subscription list. This list is basically a summary of past girlfriends, considered girlfriends, and Aaron Bell. Cam once told me that he only subscribes to the sites of individuals he considers "smart." Pardon me while I continue to beat myself in the skull with a large hammer as I fail to solve the mystery that is "2 + 2." I guess I am just jealous. Oh, look! Even I, a big dummy, knows how to put things in boldface type! Call up Luckett Christian Academy! I did deserve to graduate elementary school after all! Well, I digress. Hopefully with this kind of effort I will end up on the all encompassing "trick" page. Perhaps this will warrant my own section on www.cameronjones.org. Well, me soooo sowwwy me huwt Cammy's feewings! I always knew slander would become my favorite hobby. 
 
Last night I was able to see One Time Blind at the Rochester Church of Christ. They are quite excellent at what they do. Patrick Meade said it best when he said they make one feel uneasy about his or her Christian walk. When they made jokes, even I could not hold back a few girlish giggles. I think Tony Shaver's voice get's higher pitched and louder as the years pass. Soon, he will be able to create a sonic boom shattering any glass in a 5 mile radius. Wouldn't it be crazy if onomatopoeia were actually dangerous? You would just shout the word "kaboom" and anyone in ear shot would drop dead before your eyes. You would say "zap" and people would end up with smoking holes in their chests. Truly children would rule our society. I went to the YMCA last night with my lovely girlfriend as the start of my training for a 26 mile marathon at Walt Disney World. I plan to leave Mickey in a cloud of dust. | | |
| Lordy, it has been a while since I last updated the old xanga. I orphaned the poor thing as if it were my pet box turtle. For those of you unacquainted with Rocky, I will catch you up. Hold on tight for it's going to be a horrid, saddening glimpse into the life of a once beloved family member now left to live the rest of his life in solitude. We acquired Rocky when I but a young chap, no older than the age of 6. I've actually had a pet turtle longer than I've had a brother. (Paul is 18) Rocky's cracked shell was no doubt the product of a good kicking from a hoofed creature in the forest. Legend tells that Rocky once had an intimate love affair with a Volkswagen Beetle only to find it spurring his affection and crushing him beneath it's wheels. Needless to say, Rocky survived and held his reputation as a prize fighter. Before he accepted his fate living between four glass walls on a bed of dried corn, Rocky once socked the life out of everything in sight. He ran across the plains like a gazelle in heat. Surviving on a diet of lettuce and the occasional strawberry, Rocky now spends his days barely moving as he views cable television with intensity in his eyes. I wish to build Rocky a natural habitat using a gigantor aquarium I have in my basement. This reptilian retirement facility will require funding. Here lies a deep statement regarding our society. Turtles live in sorrow as one Paul Barbuto prepares to receive a quality make over.
 
Wow, so much has happened in the past few days. I won the lottery, foiled an underground gambling operation, and stopped the Gremlins from wreaking havoc on Manhattan. I am so totally sick of reminding people to stop feeding their Mogwai after midnight! Actually, I spent the weekend at a lock-in in Grand Rapids. Lock-ins are suicide for the working man. They have the ability to change an ordinary man in to a mindless zombie with a taste for espresso. Caffeine, the legal narcotic, was my only friend in this situation. It gave me a false sense of security and a picture of myself as the funniest man alive. I simply ignored the odd stares I received from the children as I performed my own personal Saturday Night Live. And, let me inform you that the stunts performed in "The Matrix" are completely possible under the influence of enough caffeine enhanced beverages. Drink a quadruple espresso and you'll be kicking off walls and inventing marvelous things like the "Tobaccocino." Either this or your heart will explode. | | |
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